


Unpleasant

by Jadeile



Series: Watcher Jarudiel [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Gen, Humor, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadeile/pseuds/Jadeile
Summary: The Watcher Jarudiel has business in The Salty Mast, but... that's really the last place on the damned realm that he ever wants to have to visit. So now all he can do is try to endure it.





	Unpleasant

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of my "PoE Drabbles" collection, but then stretched out and wasn't a drabble anymore. This goes between chapters 7 and 8.

Defiance Bay. The capital city of Dyrwood, and its largest city at that. A place flooded with refugees looking for a new and better life, and hoping for a salvation from Waidwen's Legacy. Said salvation was unfortunately not to be, but people made do with the distractions offered by the city instead. Distraction such as a chance at employment, the squabble of the three big political factions, and, of course, the company of the local courtesans.

The Watcher looked at the front of the Salty Mast with distaste. Brothels were the very last place in existence that Jarudiel wanted to enter, but they had business in there; Derrin's father was supposedly inside drinking his brains out, and Thristwn wanted Jarudiel to talk to Serel, who most definitely was in there. Two good reasons to visit a place as... repulsive as this. 

Yet, he kept staring at it and not taking a single step closer. 

Jarudiel knew he was going to enter sooner or later, he just really wanted it to be later. Preferably the 'never' variety of later, even if that wasn't going to be an option. He sighed quietly and adjusted his wide brimmed purple hat, stalling.

He doubted Odda could afford to pay him for the trouble of looking for her son, she didn't seem wealthy. Thristwn might pay something for his amulet, but was it worth this? Were either cases worth entering this abhorrent place? … damnit, he really couldn't just ignore a missing child, no matter if it ended up being charity work, could he? He wasn't going to be talking himself out of this, so he might as well attempt to talk himself into it instead. 

Alright. If he did this, he would get the satisfaction of knowing he did everything he could to help a family in need. Thristwn was most definitely going to pay him something for his trouble. Maybe it would be some magical trinket he wouldn't be able to get elsewhere. Yes, that sounded good. Maybe--

”Are we going in or are you going to admire the building the whole day? There will be more pleasant things to see inside”, Durance said, and prodded Jarudiel's back with his staff. The Watcher felt very tempted to grab the damned thing and break it in two. This wasn't the first time the thought had entered his head, but certainly the hardest occasion to ignore so far.

“Durance! Will you just-- you're so--” Jarudiel started, but bit his lip and took a deep calming breath instead. His words still came out clipped. “Yes. We're going in. How pleasant.” 

“Are you quite alright? You seem... tense”, Aloth asked carefully. Apparently stalling was going to make this even worse for him; his friends would pester him for an explanation unless he acted soon.

Well. That was certainly a good incentive to get on with it.

Jarudiel waved his hand dismissively and boldly strode up to the door before he could change his mind. 

The very first thing that happened was him being assaulted by the stench of the place: some sort of sweet incense, the perfumes of the courtesans and their customers alike, alcohol, and –most prominently to his nose– the musky and sweaty smell of sex. He clapped both of his hands over his mouth and nose before he could even think about it; before the smell had a chance to become completely overwhelming to him.

The next thing that happened was Aloth walking into him because of his sudden stop. He stumbled a step forward, but managed to right himself, and then he turned to look at his companion. Before Aloth could apologize – which he would most certainly do, given the opportunity – Jarudiel held his hand out to him.

“Give me a handkerchief.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aloth asked, clearly baffled by the rapidly changing and confusing situation. “...what makes you think I have one handy at all times?” His hand was obediently going towards his pocket, though. 

“Are you telling me you don't have at least three of them in your pockets and more in your bag?” Jarudiel countered with an unamused look, all the while trying to breathe through his mouth instead of his nose. The stench was becoming stronger by the second now that the door was closed behind them and the air stagnating, and it was making him nauseous. 

Aloth's cheeks gained a bit of colour and he wordlessly handed over one of his handkerchiefs, the corner of another one poking out of the pocket he pulled it from. Jarudiel was thankful enough of the prompt assistance that he didn't point it out. Instead, he tied the piece of clothing over his nose and mouth to block out worst of the stench. It wasn't much, but it helped. At the very least it was a psychological barrier. 

He gave Aloth a terse thanks and whirled around again, really not wanting to see the expressions on his friends' faces at his behavior. He took a few steps forward so that he and his companions wouldn't block the doorway from other people, and then he scanned the surroundings to locate whoever was running this place.

A second later he really wished he hadn't done that. Everywhere he looked were either drunken people, courtesans, or drunken people with courtesans. Thankfully they had separate rooms for the actual “business” so at least he didn't have to stab his own eyes out after seeing much more than he ever wanted to, but he still wished he had been spared what he had seen. Particularly that meadow folk woman giving a lap dance to a customer. And that mountain dwarf man grinding himself against another one. And that topless coastal aumaua woman. 

Stabbing his own eyes wasn't off the table yet, actually.

He was too busy trying to wipe his brain to notice he was approached until it was too late.

“You have me at loss. How could I afford time with such a magnificent creature?” someone asked him, making him turn around in alarm. It was an ocean folk man in fine, fitted clothes and a golden ear hoop. Most would consider him quite handsome... for a prostitute. 

“What?” Jarudiel asked intelligently, brain activity coming to a sudden halt. This was a nightmare. 

“I'm talking about your magnificent eyes and perfect lips. Truly, it should be a crime for you to ever close them”, the man said seductively, and ran a finger down Jarudiel's bicep. 

Jarudiel gave an involuntary full-body shudder of repugnance and he could taste bile in his mouth. He whirled around and all but ran to the door. However, he stopped just as his hand curled around the handle. 

He could not leave. He had work to do. He wasn't going to allow himself to leave now or he would never step a foot inside this place again. He needed to let go of the handle and not open the door.

“Err, Jaru--” Edér's voice began, but Jarudiel lifted a hand as a sign to shut up.

“Don't. Don't talk to me”, he hissed from between his tightly ground teeth. He could not afford a distraction. He needed to concentrate on not. Letting. Himself. Leave.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. At least he was getting used to the smell. And the sounds, which he hadn't had the time to notice before, but couldn't keep from noticing now. As long as he didn't focus too much on hearing any individual sounds, he could just write all of it off as regular pub noise. Or so he told himself.

It took him almost a full minute, but he managed to compose himself. 

When he turned around, he saw a professional looking island aumaua woman waiting for him with a concerned expression. She had obviously been stopped from approaching him by Edér, which Jarudiel was very thankful for. He would have to come up with something to thank the man with. 

The rest of his friends were hovering behind the woman, looking even more worried about him. Damn, he would need to give them some kind of explanation later, wouldn't he? Great.

Back to business, though. 

He put on a smile, hoping that it was conveyed in his eyes or body language to overcome the handkerchief hiding his mouth, and walked over to the woman. 

“Sorry about the scene I caused just now”, he begun, only to have his apology waved away. 

“No, I apologize on Orico's behalf”, she said with a placating smile. “He tends to be rather forward when he sees someone he particularly likes. You obviously don't swing that way, so I'm sorry you were put into a position you're uncomfortable with.”

That... wasn't quite the issue, but Jarudiel wasn't going to pass up a perfectly good excuse when given one. That, and he didn't have to explicitly agree with it anyway. 

“Apology accepted. Are you, by chance, the owner of this establishment?” he asked, getting right to business to keep himself distracted. The longer he was distracted, the better.

He wasn't unaware of the fact that his friends were still giving him wary looks, even if they had relaxed some now that he was behaving normally. So, for their sake, he needed to not relapse.

“I am, they call me Maea. And if I'm not mistaken, you're the fellow who has been stirring things left and right lately. A pale elf, wearing a large purple hat and purple everything, really... sounds like you”, she said, sizing him up and seemingly noticing everything about him. It would have made him uncomfortable once more, had she not been looking at his armor and weapons more than anything else. 

“That's me. I'm Jarudiel, pleased to make your acquaintance. Now, I actually have some business here, and not, err, the type you usually get. I'm looking for a man named Weyd, he is said to be a regular here and a father to a missing boy. Can you, by chance, point him out to me?” he asked, feeling more and more back to his element. He could almost pretend this was a regular old inn.

Maea nodded, glanced over her shoulder, and then pointed her thumb at a man leaning against the bar counter. 

“That'd be Weyd. About time someone came for him, he's been here for two days straight now, after he apparently couldn't find his son waiting outside like usual”, she said with a barely concealed sneer. Obviously she didn't think much of the man, but wasn't willing to outright judge her customers. 

“Great, that'll be a fun conversation. There's another thing. I'm also looking for a woman named Serel, I understand she's one of your... employees”, Jarudiel said, doing his absolute best to hide his distaste. Lucky for him, he had a good poker face and was currently sporting a handkerchief over his mouth anyway. 

Maea still gave him a suspicious look.

“That she is. I hope you're not looking for trouble there, she is my most sought after girl. If you want time with her, that'll be a thousand”, she said, tacking on a smile that was obviously one of a salesperson. 

It took every inch of Jarudiel's self-control to keep his reaction to the mere suggestion of... spending time with her, to himself. He lifted both of his hands in a placating gesture that also doubled as a refusal. 

“Please, I only wish to speak with her, nothing more and nothing less. In fact, I realize that she might be at work right now, or at least needs to be available in case someone... er, requires her services. So how about I speak with her when she's off work?” He was most definitely not willing to pay that much just to speak with someone, not to even mention the implication behind the payment, even if he didn't make use of it. He resolutely refused to think about that further.

“You're so sweet, I almost believe you when you say that”, Maea said with a smile that bordered on patronizing. “But no, people have tried that too many times. It's why she has her personal guards nowadays. But tell you what, there is something I need that you could probably take care off, and then we can talk...”

In the end he didn't even get to see Serel and ended up being roped into another task if he wanted to get anywhere near the courtesan. Weyd wasn't of any use either, he only proved himself to be the most neglectful father in the history of fathers. 

The bottom line was, they would have to return to the bordello. 

Jarudiel was not looking forward to it.

\-----

He knew this was going to drag out even further. He just knew it. 

The thugs he was supposed to locate and enforce into ceasing the harassment of the bordello patrons had their own side to the story. Of course they did, didn't they always? It was, after all, the reason he listened to them in the first place, instead of hacking them to pieces upon their confession or delivering them to the Crucible Knights. He liked to have all the facts before he did anything permanent, so he always listened when given the opportunity. 

He almost wished he hadn't this time, if only to avoid the possibility of more visits to the horror hou-- bordello. 

But here he was again, staring at the door of said house. With any luck this would be the last visit, but he knew better than that. There had to be a reason for the rising prices of the prostitutes, and they would not be lowered just because he asked nicely. After all, he hadn't gotten access to Serel when he asked nicely, and that wouldn't have cost Maea a thing to grant. No, there would be something he had to go and do about it first, and then he would have to return and hope it was enough. 

He felt like sobbing. 

“Jarudiel?” Edér spoke up, and placed a comforting hand on Jarudiel's shoulder. “You know, you could just wait outside while we deal with this. You didn't exactly explain what your issue here is but it's obviously some bad business. No need to torture yourself with it if it can be avoided.” 

It was damn tempting.

“... I wish. But my request is already suspicious enough as it is, and I don't want to agitate Maea further by suddenly sending in proxies”, Jarudiel said, all the while trying to steel himself so that he could take those few steps forward and enter the building.

“I have to agree with that”, Aloth said, and walked up to Jarudiel's other side. He handed him back the handkerchief from earlier. ”However, I think that you should tell us what is wrong. That way we could be more effective in supporting you and--”

Jarudiel tied the handkerchief around his face and briskly walked into the building to avoid the conversation. 

\-----

One last time. Just one last time and then he wouldn't have to come back here again. The Doemenels had promised to lower the price of the bitter squash for the needs of the Salty Mast, so that was one case practically solved. He had found Derrin's spirit and could tell the father the bad news, and that would be that. He only needed to talk Serel into relinquishing Thristwn's amulet, one way or another. And no, he would not accept any more errands to run if she proposed that; he would either pay for the amulet up front, since she wanted to sell it anyway, or he would talk her into giving it to him for free. Heck, at this point he might even consider literally shaking some sense into her if nothing else worked. He could take on a damned courtesan and her guards if he had to.

No matter what, he was going to be done with his business here. Never again would he need to set his foot into this repulsive place.

Jarudiel dug out the handkerchief from his pocket and marched straight into the bordello, not stopping to hesitate for a second. 

One last time.

\-----

Hadret House, Brackenbury.

Jarudiel took out his journal and pen, turned to his “quests, tasks, missives, errands, and other things people want me to do for them” page, and readied himself to listen to Kurren's problem. Dunryd Row had finally opened its doors to him, so he was more than pleased to be allowed to help them out in return. Or really, he was more than happy to accept their good coin in return of doing things they were too busy for. Same difference.

“Missing people, then. … Copperlane, Ondra's Gift, Brackenbury... people who last saw them are Lora, Oly and Elcga... who did you say were missing? Lendry, Kendal and Kora, two men and one woman. Right, so tell me about Lendry?” he asked, and scratched the side of his nose with his pen.

“Best to ask Oly”, Kurren said. “Seems they drank together at the Salty Mast in Ondra's Gift. Also seems that no-one else knew him well enough to miss him.”

“Right. Oly in Salty--” Jarudiel's pen stopped moving abruptly. 

“...you alright? Jarudiel?”

Bloody fucking abyss!

**Author's Note:**

> This has actually been sitting on my computer for a while now. I had a beta reader for my drabbles, but she was on a tight schedule to begin with and couldn't promise to continue to work with me for long, and said time ran out before she could look this one over for me. For a while I debated on getting a new beta, but getting the first one had been one big hassle, so in the end I didn't get around to doing it. Now, after stalling for even longer, I figured I'd just post this already and hope that my readers understand what is going on in it >.>; If all else fails, you can check the tags for a clue.


End file.
